


A Simple Stroll

by Okatte



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 15:18:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5502578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Okatte/pseuds/Okatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just a simple walk after a heist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Simple Stroll

It's a play almost, the walk along the streets of Los Santos. Everyone fits into their parts so perfectly.  They pass in time and act just how they’re expected. All the world’s a stage  and you’re the only one with the script. 

You have your innocent civilian passing by, lost in thought, unknowing to your fingers in their pocket. The money is just for kicks, going for a new wallet record. There’s the local hobo (he’s actually well off, the whole homelessness thing is a shtick). He tried to mug you once when you were returning home from a quick restlessness-induced hunt. The guy was missing a couple fingers and a pint of blood for a while. 

Even now he looks at you warily and unconsciously curls his right hand towards his chest.You grin a smile with nothing more than teeth. The predator’s smile of Los Santos. The smirk of the well-off, the criminals, the high-ranked mercenaries, anyone with power over another. The cobblestone taps a heavy melody under your steel-toed boots, reminding the low-life scum that you are not someone to mug in an alley. Even if no one knows your face, everyone in the city knows someone with a gun. It's in the nature of their walk, the cockiness of their smile, the too-sharp glint in their eye. 

Passing a deli, your stomach groans a mournful tune. The deli is almost empty, only a couple patrons peacefully eating near the window. This is the moment of truth. Chaos or civility? A difficult choice with someone with your reputation. As you approach the door to the deli, the gun slaps your chest from the inside of your jacket and the stolen wallet cash in the other pocket. 

The man on the other side of the counter looks expectantly at you. You pull out the cash. Yeah you’re hungry and the gun could guarantee a meal, but you’re also craving a bit of peace. 

Strange, you know. After the last couple hectic days of heists, a little quiet sounds nice. Thanking the employee for the sandwich, you revel in the simple pleasure of going out and buying a meal. None of the other crew members could do the same. The Fake AH Crew were the rulers of this filthy city and everyone knew their face. Unless you wore a mask. That blessed mask. Interesting how a simple piece of plastic could be the most feared man in all of the country. And here the same man walks, munching on a (almost) honestly bought sandwich. 

The sidewalk calls out the same staccato of your footsteps, a cheery call of the approaching murderer. You keep walking, heading now towards the pier. A nice bustling place sure to have plenty of attractions to keep yourself amused. The stroll over is uneventful, you watch as a mugger holds someone at gunpoint in an alley, a woman almost gets run over, and the LSPD fruitlessly tail a car with the alarms blaring. 

Unless you’re a criminal, it is ridiculous to live in this dirty city. It has and will suck the soul out of anyone, forcing them to watch the worst of humanity every day of their lives. It’s like a tv channel for the heartless. Maybe then that’s what you are. Heartless. Throwing away the sandwich wrapper, you contemplate that. Heartless. 

Nah, that’s not you. You still have people you care about. The Crew commands your respect and your affection. Maybe you still have some boundaries. Hits on little ones were difficult, but you couldn’t be picky when you first started out. Now you could be more selective. Hell, didn’t you just donate a ridiculous amount of money to the only clean orphanage in this sick land? Hey, maybe Hell wasn’t such a permanent destination. 

Now that’s truly an interesting thought. The feared and legendary mad mercenary turning over a new leaf and setting down your knives for good. Raising children, meeting a nice girl, being horrifically  _ domestic _ . You shiver and feel the gun under your jacket for comfort. This is what you’re bred for. Georgia doesn’t raise cowards. 

No, you take that back. You either become a coward or become the master. No room for error, no room for pity, no room for love and affection and simple pleasures. Like watching the ferris wheel turn slowly. The lights shine across the darkening sky like your last few morals. Maybe they’ll still burn bright against the black laughing expanse or they’ll flicker out the older the wheel gets. The corners of your mouth twitch up as you remember Ray’s stupid bet. 

“If I can hit the people at the very top of the wheel with this pistol, then you owe me that giant panda I saw in one of the booths.” 

Amused, you had agreed. With one alteration however.

“Let’s get the panda first.” 

It wouldn’t do for Ray to win this bet and not be able to get his giant panda. Even if it was the disgusting city of Los Santos, people still screamed and scattered when a gunshot went off. They still had common sense. 

Did you anymore? You think so. Gavin, hell no, but you probably still did. Where did the knowledge that killing people was fun reside? Common sense or morals? Eh, it didn’t matter either way. It made you happy. And that’s what people spout all the time. Be yourself and follow your dreams. Unless you’re a serial killer. 

A smirk travels across your lips. At the very edge of the pier, a couple were mashed together in what seemed to be an attempt to occupy the same spot. Ah young love. You find a spot next to them, not too close, but close enough to hear what they were breathing past each other’s mouths. 

“I love you.”

“I’d do anything for you.”

“Anything?”

“I’d die for you.”

You find amusement in this simple exchange. Generic faff was said between couples all the time and rarely was it ever true. You eye the two again. They seem like good kids. Well, you’re bored and with this thought in mind, there’s only one plan of action to follow.

In one smooth motion, the gun appears in your palm pointed at the two. Like any other civilian with common sense, they break apart with flushed faces and horror running rampant over their expressions. The boy speaks first.

“What do you want?” he asks breathlessly, tongue flicking over his lips in nervousness. 

He seems to really care for her. He stands between you and the girl with his arms pointed back to keep her behind him. Chivalry has not been lost. This one can live. 

You move the muzzle of the gun to the girl. 

Of course she squeals, hiding behind her protector. Her next statement takes you somewhat by surprise.. 

“Take him! Take him! Leave me alone I want to live!” she sobs even as she clutches her boyfriend for comfort. He whips around at her in shock, disbelief on his face. 

“I thought you trusted me?” he questions in such sorrow.The remains of your heartstrings twist in empathy. Or maybe the sandwich was bad. Either way you return your gun to its holster and walk away from the bickering of the (now broken up) couple.

Call you cruel or mean, you just did the two a favor. Now they know how they really stand in each other’s eyes. You just saved them from a marriage filled with instability with a man who would do anything for his wife but the wife willing to sell him out. 

Your phone buzzes and without looking you know it’s Geoff. Probably a text yelling at you to get home, the boys are waiting, they’re having movie night god damn it, and we will start without you.

However, you’re not stupid no matter how many times Gavin yells it at you when you kick his ass at video games. The leader of the most blood-thirsty gang in the county was  _ worried _ for him. It’s remarkably incredible. You, who could easy slit his throat without breaking a sweat or is known to be able to murder anyone in your path. You guess this is what it is to have people care about you. 

The sentiment is nice though. With a regretful look at the setting sun, it’s time to head home. 

Now for the final decision. Chaos or civility? 

As if the powers that be answer you, the ferris wheel’s lights flicker and disappear completely. Well then. A smile crosses your face one more time. The smile of the predator. Nothing but teeth. 

Happy Hunting. 

**Author's Note:**

> My first attempt at second person (I believe that is what this is called). Anyways thank you for reading and leave a comment if that suits your fancy!
> 
> Tumblr: okattematte


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